I know I haven't been on here in a while, but I'm gonna try to start blogging fairly often again. This poem was written by my good friend Megan. It kind of inspired me to throw things out here again because I wanted everyone to see it. I think it's an awesome poem.

Where I Found God
By: Megan Doherty 

Tear covered faces looking up at nothing
Too ashamed to call their lives their own
Yet knowing no other way, they fall deeper.

City streets crowded with empty bodies
Nothing more than placeholders passing time
However, there is one that is unlike the rest.

In these things, I saw God.

Those that hate, judge, and look down upon
Those tear covered faces looking up at nothing
Defile the word that they cling to so desperately

Small, rural roads filled with families of old
Where generations come and go; all the same
Not willing to hear other people's lives

In these things, I missed God.

A small child with nothing to hide
Blessed by angels, yet hated by his own
Still struggling for his voice to be heard.

In him, I realized, was God.

My Paper Heart

The words are on the tip of my tongue,
But I can't seem to put them in order.
I try to let everything go,
But I'm hitting all the wrong notes.

The keys are crumbling under my fingers,
My weaknesses are clouding my mind.
I struggle cause I know I'm not strong enough,
The fear of failing haunts my steps.

I'm waiting on You,
Sometimes I get so tired of myself.
I want more than this,
I want to do more then just exist.

I try so hard, to hide the fact that my heart is fragile.
Give me the life that Jesus breathes.

I dig myself so deep sometimes,
That in the depths I lose sight of the light.
I'm finding now I don't have to be strong enough,
Though I mess up You remind me that You are love.

I'm waiting on You,
Sometimes I get so tired of myself.
I want more than this,
I want to do more then just exist.

I want You to shine through,
Make me into something new.
Your love is the only thing that can burn this paper heart,
And make me complete.

c*c

Yep, I'm a Lord of the Rings geek. ;)

This is pretty much the best ever. :)

Sam: "It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the ending, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, the shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines it will shine out clearer. Those are the stories that stayed with you, that meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had chances to turn back, only they didn't. They kept going, because they were holding on to something."

Frodo: "What are we holding on to, Sam?"

Sam: "That there's some good in this world Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for.

Silence is Listening

Silence. Such a simple word, but it has such power behind it. It's in silence, that we really take notice of the things around us. Turn off the music, the TV, the whatever and pause the talking. Just...listen. Listen to the wind, sway with it. Listen to the rain, dance in it. Listen to the birds as they sing, fly with them. Listen to the dogs barking with glee, run with them. Listen to the plants grow, just do it. Run away from the city noises and go to a place where you can just, be. Be part of a bigger picture, part of something bigger than yourself. Discover the huge puzzle in which the pieces are all around us, we just have to put them together. Life is happening all around you. I've found that silence is the key to becoming something we are not, becoming what we were intended to be from the very beginning. The last thing we need is to be heard. Listen to God, the One who could come as a tidal wave, as a raging fire, but instead, He chooses a still small voice. One that can only be heard, through silence. One that can only be heard by taking a break from ourselves, and focusing on Him. So just pause. Focus. Listen. Smile at what you find. Remember the past, but remember to go forward. Silence...for a moment.

Psalm 46:10- "Be still and know that I am God."

"Maybe I should spend a little more time in the garden, and a little less time in the fast lane."
- Jon Foreman

c*c

"The music is everywhere, all you have to do, is listen."

I am deeply addicted to music. I think that without it, the world would be a sad place. What would we dance to? I mean, I dance when there's no music, but that's because there's a song in my head. But what if that song wasn't there? What if no one wrote deep meaningful songs? What if there were no guitars, pianos, harps, or even a kazoo to make melodies with? I don't know about you, but that's rather hard for me to imagine. I think we need music. Because anytime something bad happens to you, it's the one place you can escape to and just, let it go. I think God is a big fan of music. He created it with the quiet symphonies of the raindrops, the lively tweets of birds in the beginning of spring, the wind rushing past my window, and even the one who tries to sing quietly in the back who may not have the best voice. "I believe in music the way some people believe in fairy tales. Open your heart and listen. You'll believe, too."

"Sometimes an inanimate object like a guitar or a harmonica can bring a human soul to life." -Jon Foreman

c*c

Hope in the Distance

Who can hear their silent cries?
Who can see their pleading eyes?
As they stand, frozen and defenseless,
We're too absorbed with our pathetic existence.

How many more must be taken from their homes?
Being forced to do things with tired and broken bones?
Before someone comes and takes a stand,
Grabbing hold of their precious hand.

Letting them know that they're not alone,
That they don't have to face this world on their own.
Showing that there's Someone who can wipe away their tears,
And take away all of their fears.

Who will speak up for them?
My heart is breaking for them.
I realize they are alone and weak,
As an expression of feeling finds it's way down my cheek.

I will go if no one else,
And show them the love they've never felt.

c*c

This is What Luck Smells Like

 I read this and it really fit in rather well with what God has been doing in my heart lately, so I thought I would share because it's pretty great. :) Tis' from Jon Foreman, the lead singer and guitarist of my absolute favorite band, Switchfoot.

"I'm in seat 40G on a flight from Heathrow to LAX. After a couple weeks of playing rock and roll in Europe this long period of forced silence is a welcome change. International flights have become a meditation of sorts for me. Solitude. Breathing. Thinking. Forced air. Prayer. My tray table becomes a sacred temple among the transatlantic congregation -- complete with the plastic sacrament of holy bottled water. I close my eyes and try to meditate. Every sound feels louder than before -- every thought, amplified. Even the odoriferous results of my neighbor's poor bathing habits begin to play a part in the mental landscape. Today, unfortunately the nearby smell has become a centerpiece. A force to be reckoned with for rows and rows; a potent beefiness that commands my respect and a certain sense of awe. My prayers start to quiver, my inner peace is threatened. Will my grumbling stomach make it through the 12 hours test? The bigger question: will I break down and start to grumble inside? Will the miasma destroy my meditation?

My mind wanders... I watched Braveheart the other day to gear up for a show in Scotland: good ol' William Wallace. Now there's a man's man: a fighter and a lover -- at least the Hollywood version. And yet, I'm pretty sure personal hygiene was not high up on his priority list. In fact, William Wallace probably smelled roughly like this. I close my eyes and take a deep breath... Ah, the enchanting scent of revolution, the bewitching aroma of freedom. We go to museums and pay big money to see the sights, why not smell the smells? I imagine that a lot of my heroes probably smelled like this. Maybe I'm on the wrong side of the coin here? Maybe my frequent bathing habits, (okay, relatively frequent bathing habits) have been keeping me from greatness!? I'm not sure my wife would agree with my backwards thinking on this one.

My flying partner's dubious scent has brought another radical notion to my wandering mind. Perhaps I am lucky to be sitting here. Lucky? Yes lucky. Lucky to have a nose to smell anything at all. Lucky to have lungs that function and a mind to take it all in. Lucky to be heading home. Lucky to be on an isle seat, flying high in a device beyond the wildest dreams of William Wallace. Lucky to be playing music, traveling, meeting new people, listening to other bands... it's a gift. Yeah, I'm lucky to be alive. Sure, I'm sitting next to a strongly scented feller but things could be worse. Besides, he's human soul with a story that is unfolding one day at a time -- just like my own life.

It's incredible to think of all the things that have to come together for the human body to exist at all. The ear, the eye, and yes, the nose: these are all miracles of sorts. The liver, the heart, the brain, every nerve and synapse and vein -- so many things have to go right for any of our humanity to exist at all. I take a deep breathe take in the intoxicating aroma of the miraculous. Yes, the human soul seated next to me is a walking miracle! All carbon based life forms are pretty lucky in general. The environmental needs for bipedal primates like ourselves are incredibly specific. Our planet is the only one we've ever seen like it. The perfect combination of gasses and gravitational pull and millions of other factors. I mean, what are the chances?! It's true, my potent pal and I are incredibly lucky to be here.

My friends, take a deep breath. And another. Breathe it in. Close your eyes for a moment -- you smell that? That is what luck smells like. This is the stench of luck. Dumb luck. Yes. Dumb luck, as far as I can tell there is no other kind of providence. The moment we begin to think, scheme, or deserve the situation we're in we can no longer call it luck or grace or a gift. We did not deserve to be born, but here we are. We did nothing to earn our eyes or hands or feet and yet there they are. We did not merit another breath but there it is. And all of a sudden, luck smells pretty great.

Some folks don't believe in luck. My laptop dictionary defines luck as "success (or failure) apparently brought about by chance rather than one's own actions." Sounds about right; luck is something that we don't really deserve. Some folks might get caught off by the religious connotations but that's really not what I'm concerned with. Let's think of some other terms: Grace? Undeserved kindness? Blessings? Whatever we call it, I'm pretty sure we get doses of luck more often than we'll ever know. Why don't we recognize luck when it comes our way? Well here's my theory: Luck and grace and redemption all smell pretty good. They taste good, they feel good. They are smooth and creamy and delicious. But the unlucky moments demand our attention, they stick out like... well like a sore thumb. Our eyes are drawn to the flaws. Our ears are drawn to the dissonance. And our noses are drawn to the stench.

How easily we forget about all the incredible gifts that we are given! How quickly we begin to grumble. We could call my theory "The Aroma Attention Ailment": Instead of meditating on all of the incredible gifts that I have all around me, I am bewitched by the one thing that's wrong. I am more likely to complain about what my neighbor smells like or sounds like, (he just broke into a deep guttural snore, no joke!) than to focus on the myriad goodness of my own situation. With so much luck, why do I give this one little flaw my full attention? meditation...

You say, "Jon, you're just losing your mind on a long flight." This is true, but it's the same when I try to meditate anywhere else. That one housefly on my nose. That one itch on my big toe. That one phone call that I forgot to make. That one car alarm. And these are only the unwanted distractions. Add them to the cell phone, the ball game, the e-mail, the TV -- how can there ever be inner peace within with all of these innumerable outer distractions lined up?

Sometimes the stench around us helps to wake us up. The uncomfortable potency drives us to make the world a better place. We see what is wrong around us and try to fix it. We push to find a cure for cancer. We fight for human rights, animal rights. We look for ways to preserve our natural environment. We invent deodorant. It's true, sometimes our tendency to focus on the wrong becomes a fight for a better place. But most of the time my concerns are much more self-serving. I'm fired up because someone cut me off on the freeway rather than being furious about the horrors of human trafficking. And worse yet, seems I'd rather complain about my luck than try to fix it.

I sip on a black coffee in seat 40G and ponder it all. Up from the turbulent bouquet of my transcontinental temple another question arises: Why is it that the folks who have every reason to complain rarely do so? I'm sure you've met these types before. Maybe they have cancer, or they've lost their legs. These are your friends who have every reason to grumble, every reason to be bitter and yet, they complain less than the rest of us. They run races with with prosthetic limbs. They get degrees in spite of their disabilities. They seem to be fixated on all that is good in their life. It seems to be an incredible mystery. The folks who have the most complain the most. Why is it that the BMW-car-seat kid is miserable in Orange County and the dirt-football-field kid is content in Ensenada? Why would the one who has less (materially) have a greater propensity to call himself lucky?

Maybe luck is a choice. Yeah, maybe luck is a choice. A choice to be thankful for the myriad blessings that you have rather than complain about the few smells that are unpleasant. Seems like luck doesn't pour out like it does on the beer commercials: the young, rich, good looking, famously lucky few turn out to complain more often than their "unlucky" contemporaries. Maybe luck is a choice chosen by those whose roots sink deep into the grounds of community, sacrifice, family, worship and service. Yes, maybe luck is a choice.

"But what about the pain?" you say, "What about that awful smell?" It's true, we will all feel pain in this life. Most of my songs are driven by pain, fueled by discomfort. But I still think luck is a choice. How can I be so sure? I'm not. But I've seen glimpses of this choice before. I've seen it through the eyes of a child in South Africa, orphaned by the death of both of his parents to HIV AIDS. I've seen it in India through the eyes of the Dalit: the outcasts -- worth less than cattle in the eyes of the caste system for thousands of years. And I've seen it in my own back yard, through the eyes of the homeless adolescents at Stand Up For Kids in Oceanside. I've seen the choice for hope. the choice for joy. The choice to care for the kids who have even less than they do. To rejoice in unlikely situations. The choice to rise up and be counted among the lucky.

At Stand Up For Kids I've seen her eyes shine with joy when she gets a cool pair of donated jeans. How lucky! Yes, her mom might be in prison. Maybe, she doesn't know where her dad is. Chances are she has nowhere to sleep tonight. But you see a resilience in her eyes. A fire. A spark. How lucky, a pair of jeans that fit! How lucky, my friend is here! How lucky. And us. We unfortunate souls. Complaining about our lukewarm coffee, about our cellular service, about the smell of this airborne neighbor of mine. At the Bro-Am I met a young man named Sean who graduated from high school while battling homelessness. He went to Haiti a few weeks later to help kids that were less fortunate. He chose to call himself lucky and overcome his situation. He chose to call himself lucky and help other less fortunate folks out.
In all of my years I've never heard any of the aforementioned kids complain about their situation. Not even in passing And yet most conversations I overhear around the world have grumbling overtones. We're so good at it. It comes so naturally. And besides we've had years of practice. If you're dressing for the occasion, grumbling is always appropriate. I am not throwing stones! I've spent an embarrassing amount of time grumbling better than anyone. But I'd like turn in my grumbling rights. I'd like to burn the authorization that I was born with, the authorization to complain, moan, and sigh heavily. I'd like to surrender my weapons of privilege. Here and now, I lay them down. Maybe their ashes float gracefully in that exquisite air that lingers between 40G and 40F.

Yes, we're lucky to be alive. And this is what luck smells like."

-Jon Foreman

Deathbed

 I decided to put this on here because I've been playing it a whole lot on the piano lately. It's such a beautiful song of forgiveness and redemption. A song of how, no matter how much of a train wreck you are, God never gives up on you. The lyrics to this are so very well written. I give two huge thumbs up to Matt Thiessen
 for writing such a fantastic song. Every time I here it, I'm filled with gratefulness and, humility. I'm so insignificant yet the God of the universe still loves me. Sorry it's so dang long, it's seriously like, 11 minutes on the CD. lol :) But it's just so epic it doesn't even seem that long when you're listening to it. Anyway, I encourage you to look it up on youtube or something, or better yet, just buy the CD. It's Deathbed by Relient K, and the CD that it's on is called "5 Score and Seven Years Ago."

 I can smell the death on the sheets, covering me, I can't believe this is the end.

But this is my deathbed, I lie here alone.
If I close my eyes tonight, I know I'll be home.

The year was nineteen forty one,
I was eight years old and far far too young.
To know that the stories, of battles and glory,
Was a tale a kind mother, made up for her son.
You see, dad was a traveling preacher,
Teaching the words of the Teacher.
My mother left mourning went off to the war,
And died there with honor, somewhere on a beach there.
But he left once to never return, which taught me that I should unlearn,
Whatever I thought, a father should be.
I abandoned that thought like he abandoned me.

By forty seven I was fourteen.
I'd acquired a taste for liquor and nicotine.
I smoked until I threw up, yet I still lit 'em up for thirty more years,
Like a machine.

So right there you have it, that one filthy habit,
Is what got me where I am today.

I can smell the death on the sheets, covering me,
I can't believe this is the end.
I can hear those sad memories, still haunting me.
So many things, I'd do again.

But this is my deathbed, I lie here alone.
If I close my eyes tonight, I know I'll be home.

I got married on my twenty first, eight months before my wife would give birth.
It's easier to be sure you love someone, when her father inquires with the barrel of a gun.
The union was far from harmonious, no two people could have been more alone than us.
The years would go by and she'd love someone else,
And I realized I hadn't been loved yet myself.

From there it's your typical spiel,
Yeah if life was a highway I was drunk at the wheel.
I was seeing the loose ends, all fall apart.
Yeah I swear I was destined to fail, and fail from the start.

I bowled about six times a week, the bottle of Beam kept the memories from me.
Our marriage had take a seven-ten split,
Along with my pride the ex-wife took the kids.

I can smell the death on the sheets, covering me, I can't believe this is the end.
I can hear those sad memories, still haunting me.
So many things I'd do again.

But this is my deathbed, I lie here alone,
If I close my eyes tonight, I know I'll be home.

I was so scared of Jesus but He sought me out, like the cancer in my lungs is killing me now.
And I've given up hope on the days I have left, but I cling to the hope of my life in the next.
Then Jesus showed up said "Before we go, I thought that we might reminisce.
See one night in your life, when you turned out the light,
You asked for and prayed for my forgiveness"

You cried wolf, the tears they soaked your fur,  the blood dripped from your fangs.
You said, "What have I done?"
You loved that lamb with every sinful bone, and there you wept alone,
Your heart was so contrite.

You said, "Jesus, please forgive me of my crimes, sanctify this withered heart of mine.
Stay with me until my life is through, and on that day please take me home with you."

I can smell the death on the sheets, covering me, I can't believe this is the end.
I can hear You whisper to me, "It's time to leave, you'll never be lonely again."

But this was my deathbed, I died there alone.
When I closed my eyes tonight, You carried me home.

"I am the Way, follow Me and take My hand.
And I am the Truth, embrace Me and you'll understand.
And I am the Life, and through Me you'll live again.
For I am Love,
I am Love,
I, I am Love."

I Celebrate the Day

And with this Christmas wish is missed,
The point I could convey.
If only I could find the words to say to let You know how much You've touched my life.
Because here is where You're finding me, in the exact same place as New Year's eve.
And from a lack of my persistency,
We're less than half as close as I want to be.

And the first time,
That You opened Your eyes did You realize that You would be my Savior?
And the first breath that left Your lips,
Did You know that it would change this world forever?

And so this Christmas I'll compare the things I felt in prior years,
To what this midnight made so clear,
That You have come to meet me here.
To look back, and think that,
This baby would one day save me.
In the hope that, what You did,
That you were born so I might really live.
To look back, and think that,
This baby would one day save me.

And I, I celebrate the day.
That You were born to die.
So I could one day pray for You to save my life.

The Twelve Words of Christmas

So we watched The Twelve Days of Christmas by Louie Giglio at church Wednesday night. Wowza. His talk was pretty beast if I do say so myself.

I mean, sure, I know Christmas is all about Jesus being born, but I've never really thought about how truly amazing the whole story is, nothing needs to be changed, it's perfect just the way it is. I mean, how many times does an angel appear to people these days? Exactly. We read over that like it's nothing. Think about it, an angel appeared to three unsuspecting wise men while they were chilling out watching some sheep and having a chat. An angel. Gosh, I would be terrified and amazed at the same time if an angel appeared to me while I was playing in the yard with my dog. Imagine why the first words that were usually coming out of the angels mouths when they appeared to people were "fear not." Louie made a funny comment about angels appearing, "Oh look honey! There's an angel in the den again!" ha. :) So yeah, and angel. How special is that? BUT, his words were even more specialer actually.

"Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be to all people."

Wow. That's the opening line of all opening lines right there. I would have been super excited! I bet the angel just loved seeing the looks on their faces. So all three hold their breath, I'm sure the sheep did too, and then the angel said twelve magnificent words, words that probably made the shepherd's hearts skip a beat, words that made my heart skip a beat. Words that long after that night, would be read a million times over. You want to know what those words were?

"A Savior has been born to YOU, He is Christ the Lord."

That's crazy! If I would have been there, I'm pretty sure a shiver would have gone down my spine and I'd have a little spaz like I usually do, then I would look to the others and say, "did he just say what I think he said?" Gosh, I can't imagine the thrill it would have been.

I didn't know there had been four hundred years of God being silent before this, but that just made the story even more epic. After four hundred long years, the cry of a baby broke the silence...a human cry. That showed that He was still there, He came Himself to His people who were broken, hurting...crying. He identifies with us, He understands everything. As Louie said, "there was nothing perfect about that night...except the baby." THAT is the message of Christmas. God with us, here, now, Immanuel. After being silent for so long God had one word, Jesus. Jesus completely contains everything that's in the heart of God. He has bridged a gap so He can be as close to us that He can possibly be.

There is not a person on earth who has gone so far that His love cannot reach them where they are. He's not waiting for us to get to Him, He knew that was an impossibility. So He bridged the gap to us. Wherever you are, He's coming right to you. He is full of truth and He is full of grace and He is here now.

He said everything that needed to be said, it was the night of the dear Savior's birth. So before you absolutely demolish the wrapping on your presents, take a minute and read the story. Think about it. It's so huge and amazing I'm excited just writing this down. What Louie said at the end was pretty cool, I thought it was fitting. :)

"You say, 'well what do I do?' Absolutely nothing. Just fall on your knees, and open your arms, and say thank You. On that night they were holding the Baby, but on this night, the Baby is holding you."
Merry Christmas everyone

Christmas Bells by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I've been reading a lot of poems by Longfellow lately and I decided that I was going to post this one. It's so powerful. Every time I read it chills go down my spine, it's just that good. You'll have to look up the story behind it also, that makes if even more epic.


I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!


And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!


Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!


Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!


It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!


And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"


Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

A Hero Named Me

Glory writes amazing poetry, songs, everything. I saw this and thought it was absolutely GREAT, so I decided to post it. :)

My heart cries in the darkness
Surrounded by the pressures of life.
Tears drip from my face,
As Commitment holds up a knife.

Do I run? Or Do I fight?
Do I stay? Do I die?
Do I need a hero to rescue me?
Or is that hero a person named me?

I just want out of this mess
My heart bursting from the stress.
I lash out at my surroundings
Sending out the call of S.O.S.

Do I run? Or Do I fight?
Do I stay? Do I die?
Do I need a hero to rescue me?
Or is that hero a person named me?

Who will stand if I won’t?
Who will speak if I don’t?
The world is crying for a hero.
Is that hero a person named me?

“I sent you for this very time,
Even if it is an uphill climb.
It will never be more than you can bear,
I send you to prove that I care.”

This call is a heavy thing,
Not avoiding life’s sting.
It feels like I’m breaking inside,
Or maybe I’ve just come alive?

Do I run? Or do I fight?
Do I stay? Do I die?
Do I need a hero to rescue me?
Or is that hero a person named me?

Glory Ledbetter 11/27/10

A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

"A Dream Within a Dream" reflects Poe's feelings about his life at the time, dramatizing his confusion in watching the important things in his life slip away. Realizing he cannot hold onto even one grain of sand leads to his final question that all things are a dream. It may be interpreted that the "golden sand" is an allusion to the author's loved ones, and that each is inevitably swept away by death (the pitiless wave), no matter how tight a clasp the author tries to retain them with.

WHOA.

Ok this is rather random, but I was looking at Owl City website and reading Adam Young's blog. There was this one post entitled "my hope is found" and I thought, "huh. That reminds me of the song In Christ Alone." I am a big fan of that song, so I decided to read it. And it was GREAT. You may not think it's as beastin' as I'm making it out to be, but what he said really got to me in a way and his cover of the song was beautiful, so I thought I would share with you very few people who randomly stumble upon this here blog. Here's the link. Go read it, listen to the song, and be filled with awe at God's awesomeness.

http://owlcityblog.com/2010/10/25/my-hope-is-found/#more-1942

Sea of Clouds

I fly over the sea of clouds, the ground far beneath me,

they rush past my window seat as I stare at their beauty.

The sun peeks over, slowly rising to it's full glory.

like a diomond it shines, piercing my eyes,

the colors flow over the clouds pouring all over the skies.

There is one more star, refusing to sleep and be gone,

as the darkness has no choice before the dawn.
Who knew that there was a whole new world up above us?
With all different colors and textures.
I kinda wish I had wings so I could fly over it myself.
It's just that glorious.
But for now, I am back on the ground.
Gazing up at the puffy clouds, or the beautiful stars.
With that perfect picture in my mind,
of the sea of clouds in the open sky.

For the Life of Me by This Beautiful Republic

Was I worth the pain?

You had nothing left to gain,

I know I'm the only one to blame.

I'm broken on the floor,

Staring at the door,

Waiting on a Savior to walk in.

For the life of me,

Why'd You bear my chains?

For the life of me,

Why'd You walk to Calvary?

For the life of me,

I can't explain,

The reason You died, and the reason You came was for the life of me

What do You see in me?

I'm a leper not a king,

A mess that’s undeserving of Your name.

I've disappointed You,

Like a rose that never blooms,

Failing to display my heart to You.

For the life of me,

Why'd You bear my chains?

For the life of me,

Why'd You walk to Calvary?

For the life of me I can't explain,

The reason You died, and the reason You came was for the life of me

Lord, let me be so bright

I escape every shadow using Your light

Are You waiting to see,

That I will show,

Your life in me?

For the life of me,

You bore my chains.

For the life of me,

You walked to Calvary.

For the life of me,

I can't explain,

The reason You died, and the reason you came,

Was for the life of me.

Glorious Symphonies

The music starts slowly, in a sweet melodic tune.

I feel it groping deep within my heart as it tries to calm me.

At first I refuse, fighting against the musical tide that moves so freely.

The other instruments join the lonely yet content piano.

The sound builds as the symphony comes to life.

My mind has grown weary of it's inhabitants, so I let the music flood every thought.

Each note played starts to soften my heart from it's cold state.

I slowly become enchanted with the melody, the music makes me sway.

The peace can search me out and find, that I'm so ready to be found.

I close my eyes as the tune goes on, dreaming of a world without faults.

I loose myself and begin to dance slowly to the sound.

The stars who look at a planet always watching pain, perhaps will see that there is hope.

The fireflies light up the world around me, as they perform their nightly ballet.

This is my chance to believe in something more than walls and ceilings.

The instruments fade, leaving the piano to play on.

It slows, then comes to a silence. Leaving me in the darkness of the night.

I open my eyes and gaze at the open sky above me.

The song has come and gone from my mind,

Like a dream lost on waking.

But something is different.

A joy has crept deep inside the shadows of my heart. 

A sweet calm that runs through my whole being.

It feels like I have come on a long journey to find this peace no one could understand.

Now I have a desire, a passion, that moves me to do something.

So that people who feel abandoned, 

lost in the cracks of an unfeeling universe,

could see a ray of hope in the distance.

c*c

I wrote this while "Moonlight" by Yiruma was running through my head one night. It's a beautiful song that I recently learned how to play on piano. You should go look it up. :)

The Greatest Kind Of Love

What is this love?

So deep I can hardly comprehend?

For someone such as I,

You would take the time to mend.

This tired and broken soul,

who's tried hard to stay aflame.

You now have made whole.

And I will never be the same.
The rhythm of Your presence,
beats steady in my heart.
Though I may wander,
 we can never be apart.
I can feel You all around me,

Your life is rushing through me,
Your love, it consumes me.

c*c

When I Go Down by Relient K

I really like this song, so I thought I'd put it on here. It's so good, it's like...me, you know? Anyway, here's the best description I found for it. *This is a song about rising from the ashes of an emotionally burned out life. They've been living their life according to their own selfish desires and things seem to be going smoothly, but soon they find that that life's taking them nowhere but down. Really down. Really quickly. So quickly, that before they even know it, they've hit rock bottom. It hurts, but the most painful thing is that they realize that they could have avoided all this if they had just followed God. They just want all this to be over, but "that's not the way it works." No, they've got to admit that they're wrong, and more importantly, to repent and submit to the will of God. And that's the beautiful part. Because even though they've gone and messed things up completely, and have hit the rock bottom, all they have to do is look up and there's Jesus, right next to them, "with open arms, to lift them up again."*

I'll tell you flat out

It hurts so much to think of this

So from my thoughts I will exclude

The very thing that

I hate more than everything is

The way I'm powerless

To dictate my own moods

I've thrown away

So many things that could've been much more

And I just pray

My problems go away if they're ignored

But that's not the way it works

No that's not the way it works

When I go down

I go down hard

And I take everything I've learned

And teach myself some disregard

When I go down

It hurts to hit the bottom

And of the things that got me there

I think, if only I had fought them

If and when I can

Clear myself of this clouded mind

I'll watch myself settle down

Into a place where

Peace can search me out and find

That I'm so ready to be found

I've thrown away

The hope I had in friendships

I've thrown away

So many things that could have been much more

I've thrown away

The secret to find an end to this

And I just pray

My problems go away if they're ignored

But that's not the way it works
No that's not the way it works

Any control I thought I had just slips right through my hands

While my ever-present conscience shakes its head and reprimands me

Reprimands me

Then and there

I confess

I'll blame all this on my selfishness

Yet You love me

And that consumes me

And I'll stand up again

And do so willingly

You give me hope,

And hope it gives me life

You touch my heavy heart,

And when You do You make it light

As I exhale I hear Your voice

And I answer You,

Though I hardly make a noise

And from my lips the words I choose to say

Seem pathetic,

But it's a fallen man's praise

Because I love You

Oh God, I love You

And life is now worth living

If only because of You

And when they say I'm dead and gone

It won't be further from the truth

When I go down

I lift my eyes to You

I won't look very far

Cause You'll be there

With open arms

To lift me up again

To lift me up again

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination...

I can't sleep. The dark starry night has awakened all my senses of curiosity. I fly out into the rich colors of the Milky Way, with shooting stars and planets all set loose in a beautiful mess. I explore the world's under the smiling moon. I take my guitar and create sweet melodies from deep inside the doors of my heart to send off to the sky. To the other planets where other living beings are sitting under their stars waiting for the soft symphonies of the moon to reach their ears and send them off into a deep sleep full of dreams of the ones they love. The sweet aromas of midnight surround me as if embracing me in loving arms. The gentle breeze brushes my face like a sweet kiss from soft lips. I lie in the the soft grass, gazing up at the endless sky of stars. Wondering why a small indifference, not very significant to the world, would be allowed to enjoy this moment. And there, I drift off to sleep in the peacefulness of the night, dreaming silently of all His wonders.

c*c